Severed Soul
by beanbag1234
Summary: Something stays with Dean after he returns from hell
1. Chapter 1

Dean gripped the blade in his hand. Being back here wasn't right. He shouldn't be here, he didn't deserve to be here. Guilt ripped through him as he remembered the pain on the countless faces he tore into whilst in Hell. They begged him to stop, screamed it at him. Alastair would sit in the corner, watching him, forcing him to push the blade into them deeper, to watch their blood run down to his fingertips. Alastair wanted to train him, said he had potential. He wished he was stronger. He waited for the day where he would be ready to get back on the rack. God, he wished he wasn't so weak.

He remembers the day he stopped. He screamed at Alastair, refused to hurt more people. All Alastair did was smile. He knew what was in Dean Winchester's head. He didn't want to hurt people, he didn't want other people to hurt him. How pathetic.

As Alastair brought another young lady in, ready for Dean to tear into her, Dean spoke.

"I could do it to myself."

That's when Dean became Alastair's favourite. Watching Dean torture himself was far more entertaining for him. Dean winced as he cut down to the bone in his thigh. Cutting to the bone was enough for Alastair the first time, but gradually he wanted more.

Dean was disgusted with himself. He hated that he'd grown to like the feeling. He even craved it sometimes. Being able to hurt himself wasn't becoming torture for him anymore. Alastair was intrigued by this, urging Dean to continue. When he would be healed after each day, Alastair would make sure to leave the scars. He felt a twisted sense of pride in Dean when he stared at his own skin.

After years and years of carving into old scars something changed. He felt an unfamiliar pain on his shoulder and he was encircled by darkness.

Finding out you were pulled out of hell was one thing, but finding out an angel pulled you out was overbearing. How could his soul be so special that an angel was sent to bring him back. Especially Dean's.

Sam understood that Dean had been through a lot, but he would never know the extent. He doesn't know how hard it is for Dean to keep it together. To not lose it whenever he sees his unmarked skin. He can't stand being so clean. Having no scars. He needs to see blood, the skin being torn apart.

And that leaves him in the bathroom of the hotel he was staying in with Sam, holding the knife and deciding whether to cut his thigh or his arm.

He decides on his thigh, and positions the knife, pressing down and slicing through his flesh. He can't do much since it won't heal by the end of the day, but it's enough for now. He's never had to clean up the blood before and it's a difficult task. He hopes that Sammy doesn't notice anything.

But it's not Sam he has to watch out for.

Cas has been visiting them more frequently, he is kind of a good friend of the brothers now, checking in with them often, especially with Dean.

Sam's out on a food run when Dean and Cas are at the motel. Dean's in the kitchen when Cas coughs, getting Dean's attention.

"Dean, is it alright if I ask you a question?"

Dean says sure. Cas was so clueless about humanity, he probably had thousands of questions circling round his head. But the one he asked was a shock to Dean.

"Why do you hurt yourself? Like you use to when you were with Alastair?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dean froze.

How did Cas know?

"Dean?"

What was he supposed to do? He wasn't prepared for this. Had Cas talked to Sam about it beforehand? He felt a pit in his stomach.

"I don't know what you're talking about Cas."

Castiel took a few steps closer to Dean.

"I think you do."

Dean decided to stay silent. He went to walk past Cas, but as he passed him he felt his arm being grabbed, and was pulled to face him.

"I saw what you were doing in Hell, Dean. I've heard all the rumours. From what I've learnt about humans I know that this isn't a behaviour that's easy to discontinue. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, but I only wish to help."

Dean didn't know what to say, even if he could manage to say anything. What could Cas do? Nothing. Anger grew in him and he pulled his arm out of Cas's grip.

"If you want to help, Cas, then don't bring this up again."

Cas sighed as Dean left the room.

Dean locked the door to the bathroom. Only when he reached for the shower door did he realise he was shaking. He brought his hand into a fist and proceeded to take off his clothes, turning the hot water on and standing under it so it would fall down his back.

What was he supposed to do now? Cas knew. He fucking knew. And he was probably going to tell Sam. He felt that horrible feeling in his gut again. Would they force him to stop? He couldn't stop. He's been doing this for too long, he likes it. They wouldn't understand that.

"Dean?" He heard Sam's voice through the bathroom door, how long had he been in there? He hadn't even noticed the water going cold.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Food's here."

Hoping that Cas hadn't had that particular conversation with Sam, he quickly got dressed and reluctantly headed to the kitchen. Sam had brought back burgers, and he seemed in a pretty good mood. Dean let put a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding. So Cas hadn't told Sam, yet.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked in between mouthfuls.

Dean looked around. The angel was nowhere to be seen.

"I dunno. He probably got called up for some heaven business."

For some reason, the longer Cas didn't show up he became more and more anxious.

Was this about him? He hoped it wasn't. Who knows what Cas might be thinking about him. That Dean's one fucked up shadow of a person probably. He said he wanted to help, how could he though? Why was he even thinking about this, he didn't deserve help. He didn't need it in the first place. This was just who he was now.

For the second time that day he found himself in the bathroom holding his blade. He had decided on his arm this time, pulling up the sleeve on his left and running his fingers down the scars. He remembered the time when there was no untouched skin left, when he had to cut through year's old scar tissue. Looking at his arm now, he felt pathetic. It would take a while to get it to how it looked before, at least he could experience it all over again.

He held the knife a few inches below his wrist, pressed down and dragged it across. He could see the fat tissue bubbling up inside the wound. Not too bad for now. A few more of these would be fine.

As he went to work on the third cut, a voice interrupted him.

"Dean!?"

Cas grabbed the knife from his hands.

"Give it back, Cas!" Dean turned towards him, anger taking over the calm expression that was on his face moments ago.

"Calm down. Let me heal those for you, we can talk."

"No offence Cas, but what I do is none of your fucking business. So don't try to talk to me about this."

He pulled down his sleeve, not caring that the wounds were still bleeding.

"Then I'll talk to your brother about it then."

Dean's blood ran cold. Sam couldn't know. He can't know.

"Please Cas, please…. please don't tell Sam."

Dean couldn't look him in the eyes.

"If you talk to me about this, I'll keep it private. Just...just talk to me, or anyone. Please, Dean."


End file.
